


A Tough Lesson

by Graymalkin



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Pee, Urination, Voyeurism, female desperation, female urination, peeing in odd places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graymalkin/pseuds/Graymalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An inexperienced substitute teacher struggles to control her class and her bladder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tough Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> An older story I wrote based on a prompt by Packrat and an image by SexySketches.

Siphrah Chesley's mind was overflowing with thoughts. Uncertainties. Regrets. Bitter realizations. Inadequacies. Little anxieties of all shapes and sizes assailed her rational thoughts like a horde of biting insects, and they worked themselves into a frenzy when the bell rang.

Here she was, a young woman whose teaching degree hadn't even gotten back from the framing shop, hardly more than a little schoolgirl herself, trying to do the impossible. 

Not literally impossible, of course. She knew (or at least hoped) she could work a job like this on a regular basis. This was only one class a day, when the usual responsibility of a teacher was three or four. It had all been her goal for years. But the task she faced now truly seemed impossible. Teaching a subject she hardly understood using notes that hardly made sense in a classroom she could hardly find her way around in wearing a new suit and shoes that hardly fit. 

Despite Mrs. Lenard's condescending attitude toward substitute teachers, she apparently had a lot of faith in her. Too much. She had left scanty, sometimes contradictory instructions. This and a dusty brick of a textbook that even Siphrah's adult mind found nearly impenetrable were all she was armed with in this five-day tour of duty in an advanced placement biology class. She could ask for help from the principal, but that would make her look weak.

Her professional image was bolstered by her choice of apparel. At least, she hoped it was. She'd never known clothing very well, especially not the formal business kind, and could have been walking around in a fashion nightmare for all she knew. She wore a blue herringbone dress shirt and a navy blue skirt. She had toned it down from the truly sophisticated skirtsuit and heels she had worn yesterday because of the stifling heat and the realization that almost every permanent teacher at this school wore something more informal. She did worry that she might have gone too informal. The skirt was so short she felt like she should be trying out for the pom-pom squad, yet it had somehow looked conservative in the dressing room mirror. Oh well, such were the mysteries of the Universe. The half-moon glasses she wore should have prevented her from appearing too casual.

She was also armed with a steely demeanor. She didn't know how to act friendly to students without showing her anxiety or her immature side. Giggling when she noticed she'd done something wrong didn't endear herself to this crowd. So, without even trying, she found herself acting stern, strict, and humorless. Acting like she was made of stone when she was really a bundle of overactive nerves. 

The professional look and routine didn't work very well on this class. The immature ones were out of control, and the mature ones asked challenging questions that brought her to the verge of blurting out that she had no idea what she was doing. Still, she'd gotten through one day. Seemingly on cue, the principal came in to check on her the moment she had brought the students in line and gotten a grip on the lesson plan. She looked good, and felt like she could enjoy doing this every day.

That gave her some reassurance, but her job was due to get more complex and involved each day, there was much to do and say that she hadn't had time for yesterday, and she felt physically worn down from yesterday's battle. Her mind was overflowing with such thoughts, and she felt a cascade of panic wash over her as the bell rang and she suddenly realized just how bad her situation was. She also realized something else was overflowing. She had been too preoccupied to use the restroom before class, or even register the fact that she needed to, and now it was too late. Between the 90 minute length of classes at this school, the massive amounts of coffee working its way through her petite system, and the fragile state of her nerves, she could soon be overcome with a cascade of something besides panic.

She got the things on her desk situated, trying to hide the fact that she wasn't finished looking over the materials. She tried to look natural as she took a seat behind the desk, even though she felt like her bladder was large enough to bulge and jiggle behind the fabric of her skirt. Then she crossed her right leg as far over her right as the tendons and muscles would allow, and silently scooted her seat forward until the leg-sandwich was wedged between the chair and desk as tightly as her circulatory system would permit. It was going to be a long 90 minutes.

"The bell has sounded," were the teacher's first words to the class today. "Why do I hear talking?"

"Because you're not deaf," a boy named Travis Russell said, provoking much laughter from the other students.

"Knock it off, or I'll send you to 325." It hadn't taken her long to learn which room detentions were served in.

"Mrs. Chesley, can I go to...?" a girl began to ask

"I still hear talking." Once the room was quiet, Siphrah formally began class.

"Mrs. Chesley, can I go to...?" the same girl started to say again. It was Stacy Sutton, who was actually one of the better students in this disrespectful pack of teenagers. Siphrah again interrupted her interruption.

"I hear talking again, but nobody's hand is raised." Stacy's hand shot up. "Now, are there any pressing issues that can't wait until I've taken attendance?" She paused a moment, then called on Stacy.

"Mrs. Chesley, can I go to the bathroom?"

"My name is _Ms._ Chesley, and no you may not."

"But I was at the pep rally and barely had time to..."

"These are the rules every high school class follows, as I explained yesterday. If Mrs. Lenard is one of the rare exceptions that allows students to walk out of class for minor reasons like restroom breaks, she didn't inform me. Any other questions? No? Excellent. Now, is Marcus Anderson present?"

Siphrah was a few names into the attendance sheet before she realized how hypocritical she was being. This fidgeting blonde in her class was no different from the girl she was only half a decade ago. The years of college and life experiences and maturing brain tissues hardly felt like they had transformed her. She wished for a moment that she could shove the textbook and lesson plan aside and skip off to the girls' room with Stacy. They would chat through the stall wall. She would relieve her stress as well as her aching bladder, and come back to class feeling fresh and up to the task. 

She pushed the silly fantasy out of her mind. She was a teacher. She couldn't show weakness, and nothing looks weaker than reversing your rule due to a student's complaint. Nothing except stopping class to run to the nearest toilet.

Soon she came to the part of the lesson she was dreading. "Today we're going to cover the human urinary system," she said to the class, hardly able to speak those words with an unwavering voice.

She stood up and turned on the projector, which she had already prepared with a transparency showing the female urinary system with labels pointing to each part. She foolishly turned it on as she was standing in the wrong spot, and for a moment the graphic was projected onto her clothes. This not only startled her, but reminded her of the real urinary system she had beneath her skin. The system she was currently putting through extreme torture just so she wouldn't lose face. Her knees buckled and the almost fell down. She caught herself on the corner of her desk, and maneuvered her body around to a place where she could see the transparency and point to the parts of it, but also be largely obscured from the students. Once in position, she crossed her legs. She hoped no one would notice her desperate body language.

"The urinary system, also called the urinary tract or excretory system, is needed to purify the blood. Like the digestive system, this group of organs is involved in the elimination of waste, a taboo subject that many people have trouble discussing in a mature fashion. But be reminded that laughter is a form of disruption, and will be punished accordingly." This was an idle threat. If she gave detention every student who laughed during class, this classroom would be pretty much empty.

"The urinary system consists chiefly of three organs: a pair of kidneys and the bladder." She stuttered as she named that last organ. She'd been trying to keep her mind off her own bladder since class began, and now she was going to have to describe it while looking at a picture of it. "The real work is done by tiny nephrons inside the kidneys."

She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She couldn't read the students' faces, but kept feeling like some of them were aware of her predicament. 

As her lecture went on, she felt more and more frantic. She walked around the projector much more than necessary. She couldn't help it. She couldn't keep still. When she was standing in place, her legs kept moving around, as if she was performing a strange dance. When she approached the end of her discussion of the kidneys, things went from bad to worse.

"The urine..." She bit her lip as she spoke that word, and her body flinched. Her hands reached to grab her body and keep the urine from escaping, but she stopped them. Then she smiled, laughing at herself with a nervous "hahaha" that sounded more like humming. Some of the students gave her odd looks. Did they know what was wrong?

"I'm sorry," she restarted, "the urine that is produced in Bowman's capsules passes through the duct of Bellini to collect in a reservoir called the renal pelvis. The renal pelvis and the renal sinus, which contains it, have confusing names. They don't have anything to do with the bones that are called the pelvis or the cavities in the head that are called sinuses. These are just Latin named describing their shape. From the renal pelvis, the urine from each kidney trickles down a long tube called the ureter, to be collected in a sac called the bladder." There was that word again. She couldn't make it through that sentence without uncrossing and recrossing her legs. She was explaining an organ as she strove to avoid acknowledging the one that she had.

"Up until this point, the work of each kidney is totally independent of the other. In fact, a person can survive with only one kidney, although that causes certain health risks. There's no real reason to have two kidneys except to improve efficiency, and to provide a safeguard in case one is damaged or diseased." She wished she'd been provided with two bladders. Her one was at maximum capacity, and she had no safeguard if it failed.

"The bladder is another organ with a somewhat confusing name, because there's a totally different organ called the gall bladder. This bladder is sometimes called the urinary bladder to avoid confusion. The bladder is a simple organ, not much more than a balloon made of flesh." Her mind lingered on this image. It couldn't help it. "A water balloon, you might say. Only instead of water it's full of urine, which is really mostly salt water. The yellow color comes from bilirubin, a chemical left over from bile, which the kidneys filter out from the blood." She didn't have to give all this information, but her mind wouldn't move on. 

"The smell of stale urine is ammonia. There isn't ammonia in it when it comes out, but there is urea. Urea is in there because the broken-down remnants of nucleotides, amino acids, and creatine all yield ammonia. Now, ammonia is a deadly poison, so the liver turns it into urea and uric acid. But it gets turned back into ammonia once you pi...once you urinate it out. Certain bacteria on the skin and outside the body feed on urea and release ammonia as a waste product. Our waste is their nourishment, and their waste is the pollutant in our blood that we must excrete as waste. Not all of this will be on the test. I'm getting a little off track."

She forced her mind to move on, and forced her left leg to curl as far around her right one as she could without falling over. By now she had given up hope on holding it in until class was over. She had to think of an alternative, but no acceptable ones were coming to mind. She continued to resist the temptation to excuse herself from class, and continued with the lesson.

"The bladder is held shut at the bottom by two muscles. Two confusingly named muscles called the internal and external urethral sphincters. A sphincter is any muscle that functions basically like a lens. There's also a pyloric sphincter in the lower part of the stomach, and an anal sphincter in the lower part of the rectum. The internal urethral sphincter holds the bladder tightly shut until it reaches its limit. The external urethral sphincter can be made to hold it shut for longer, until the person can find a convenient time and place to void her urine...or his." She was very close to blurting out her problem.

"Much of toilet training in toddlers simply consists of strength training for the external urethral sphincter. On the other end of these sphincters is the urethra, a tube like the ureter, only leading out of the body. The final hole through which the urine is leaked...is eliminated from the body is called the urethral meatus, or meatus urinarius. In the female it is located between the vagina and the glans clitoris, while in the male it is located at the very tip of the penis, where it performs both an excretory and reproductive function. We'll talk more about the reproductive system later. Actually, we probably won't get to that until Mrs. Lenard is back, so she'll handle those parts." She cringed inwardly at that last sentence, and most of the students laughed.

"Now quit laughing. You're supposed to be mature high school students in an A.P. class, almost ready for college. You shouldn't be tittering like little children." This made them laugh more. "Tittering!" Siphrah repeated loudly. She was really losing her patience. "It's a word!" She tried to regain her composure.

"Are there any questions about this? I know I've covered a lot in a few minutes." It felt like a few hours.

Gary Stewart raised his hand, as she knew he would. He genuinely cared about the lessons, and kept taking class time to satisfy his curiosity. It could really get on a teacher's nerves.

"Yes, Gary?"

"How do the male and female urinary systems differ?"

"Unfortunately I only have a transparency of the female system, but both of them are in your book...or one of the handouts...or...I saw them somewhere." She was getting flustered. Her desperation was making it hard to concentrate on anything. "One difference is the urethra, of course. It's about twenty centimeters long in the male but only four in the female. In the male, its width varies between one and three millimeters, while the female urethra is a constant six. This is because the male urethra is constricted by erectile tissue and other reproductive structures. The ejaculatory duct connects with it from behind." The sounds of laughter in the classroom were building again.

"The size and shape of the bladder is another point of contrast. In males it's 50% larger than in females. On average, the sensation of fullness occurs when the male bladder is distended to 300 milliliters, but only 200 milliliters in my female bladder." She froze as the noticed that slip of her tongue. She scanned her audience but saw no clear signs of realization. She knew she couldn't go on like this. She was tripping over her words and her feet. But what choice did she have?

"I think I might have left out the part about stretch receptors. No matter, I'll get to that later. This is all in your textbook, anyway...but my lecture is still important, so pay attention. In the female, the bladder is wedged between the uterus and the pelvic floor. So it looks flatter in diagrams, kind of a diamond shape in cross section, but is actually wider than the male bladder. But both the male and female bladders become egg-shaped as they fill up. They also rise upward into the abdominal cavity, because the pelvic floor is too restrictive to contain a full bladder. In a state of extreme distension, the upper extremity of the bladder can rise up to the level of the navel."

Siphrah felt a sudden loss of control. It subsided quickly, but not before a moment of panic, a panic that caused her right hand to shoot between her legs. She laughed nervously again as she students noticed her odd behavior. She made it look like she was rubbing her leg instead of holding her crotch.

"I'm sorry, this skirt is new, and it itches."

"Then take it off," one of the male students blurted out. Siphrah was furious. She might have sent him to detention, but didn't want to admit that she couldn't remember his name.

"Young man, that is exactly the kind of sexual harassment that will get you into trouble in the real world. I'll let you off with a warning, but don't expect such lenient treatment from the next woman you speak to in such a disrespectful manner." 

Once she was finished with this sentence, she wanted to hit herself for failing to think of something. If she'd escorted the boy to Room 325, she could have easily used the faculty restroom on the way back. No student in her class would have known. Now she hoped someone else would be horribly disrespectful.

"What was I...? Yes, sexual dimorphism in regards to the urinary system. Another thing to mention is the prostate gland, which is a male organ." She had to do something quick or she was going to be a live visual aid. It felt like a miracle when a thought suddenly came to her from out of the blue.

"It would help if I could draw on this transparency. I don't have any erasable pens, but I think I saw some in the chem lab." She walked, briskly and stiffly, but still with an ounce of composure. She took a long loop past the desk and table, across the west wall, and around behind the stage-like structure on which the desks were situated. As soon as she was out of the students' sight, she grinned like a naughty schoolgirl. She had found a perfect excuse to leave the room without even lying. Leave the room and enter one with plumbing.

Once she heard the click of the door behind her, she quickly went to task moving a stepladder in front of the door, rigging it so the handle couldn't be moved from the outside. She did most of this with one hand while the other pressed tightly against her bladder. The hands switched frequently. If someone had to follow her in, explaining why she had blocked the door would be embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as someone walking in on the teacher with her panties around her ankles and her rump hanging over the sink.

Once the barricade was in place, she really started to do the potty dance. But her relief was literally around the corner. She trotted over to the first sink on the near side of the lab, and gracefully hoisted her petite body up onto the counter. She lifted her skirt up out of the way, and slipped her panties down to her ankles. Her body shivered in anticipation. Once she was sure her clothes were all out of the splash radius and her urethral meatus was aimed at the drain, she relaxed her external urethral sphincter and let the urine flow. 

And flow it did. She felt like she was redefining the word "piss." Never had she heard such a loud noise produced from human excretion. It wasn't all from the force of her water pressure. The echoes and reverberations of the cavernous aluminum-lined sink helped the volume. But she knew from yesterday that the walls here were practically soundproof, so she grinned another naughty grin as her urine hissed and spattered as loud as she pleased. 23 years old, and she was getting away with something that would have earned her a spanking as a child.

Then something happened that made her fear for her career: A door creaked open. She whipped her head around to look, but the door she had come through was secure. Then she realized she had completely overlooked the second door to the chemistry lab. The one that connected with the main hallway.

Her blood turned to ice as her heart skipped a beat and leaped into her throat. Those were the anatomically impossible things she felt were happening inside her body. But she wasn't thinking about the circulatory system. She was thinking about premature termination, disciplinary action, and a possible lawsuit. The deliciously naughty child in her was replaced by the mortally terrified adult. She would have preferred a smacked bottom to what was likely to happen if a minor saw what she was doing.

She diminished the firehose torrent between her legs into a drinking fountain trickle, and moved a lever to make the water run slightly. She could use that to explain the sound, but getting herself back on her feet with her panties in place and no wet splotches on her skirt would be a greater challenge. As she waited for a person to emerge from the entryway, she thought about the noise she'd make if she hopped down. She didn't think it would go unnoticed. She only had a few seconds, and she just couldn't think of a way to make herself decent without arousing attention.

The student walked right past her view without noticing. They were now on the other side of the support pillars and student work stations. Glass containers, Bunsen burners, and other implements hung on racks, blocking most of the view. Siphrah wasn't sure if it was a boy or a girl, so she wasn't sure how seriously they'd be traumatized if they saw here. Whatever the student was, they went to work at the counter on the exact opposite side to the one with the naughty teacher perched on it. She heard them opening and closing drawers and cupboards, rattling things around, and flipping through a notebook.

Siphrah was safe from discovery, but not for long. With her left hand keeping her body stable, her right carefully reached for the paper towel dispenser and pulled out a brown, coarse towel. This she folded around her hand and slipped into the gap between her thigh and the rim of the sink. She carefully dabbed herself dry, then let go of the towel. She could hear it being soaked into mush in the sink, into which a stream of water from the faucet was still running. 

Next she brought her legs up until her heels were resting on the work station across from the sink. With her lower body stable and her simple beige silk panties in plain sight, she used both hands to slip them back up her legs until they got to the place where the edge of the hard sink counter displaced the soft flesh of her buttocks. 

There was no way to lift herself off the sink and pull the panties up at the same time. She would have to stand up to do that. She brought her legs back down to where they were dangling off the counter and thought for a moment. She was hesitant to hop down. The student was making noise, but not enough that they would fail to be startled if the teacher hopped down to the floor.

The nervous woman continued to weigh her options when she heard glass implements crash together loudly. She had taken her eyes off the student's indistinct silhouette, and now looked back to see an eye staring right at her through the bottom of a 500 milliliter beaker. The student saw that she saw them, and the two pairs of startled eyes locked by accident.

There was a moment of complete silence. Unspeakably awkward silence.

"I'm so sorry!" a male voice blurted out, sounding as desperate as Siphrah felt. She was thankful he had spoken first, because she had no idea what to say. She jumped down from the counter and swiftly reached under the back of her skirt to pull her panties back up around her bare pelvic region. In the same fluid motion, she turned the faucet off with her other hand. She was back facing the pair of eyes in a blink.

"I didn't mean to spy!" the voice quickly added. "I mean, I didn't spy. I wasn't spying. I just needed to get some supplies here for my extraterrestrial...I mean extracurricular project and I didn't know what was going on and didn't know if I should say something and so I ended up watching you and...I'm sorry!"

The student's outpouring helped the teacher compose herself. He was powerless and insecure, bolstering her confidence. Her body language immediately adjusted to this. Since he was still on the other side of the barrier, talking to her through gaps, she walked around to meet him face to face. He was a lanky, freckled boy with glasses, pretty much exactly what Siphrah had pictured. She looked him in the eye, intimidating him further

"Please don't tell anyone," the boy finally said. "I'm already in trouble for..." The room became silent again as he caught himself and abruptly cut the sentence short. "Please don't tell!" he repeated in an even more pleading tone than before.

"I won't," Siphrah said in the sort of stern voice she thought he thought she would use. Trying not to betray her anxiety, she added, "You won't tell anyone what you saw here, will you?"

He was quick to comply. "Of course not! Not a word! Just give me a chance." His eyes showed that he wasn't sure if he was all the way off the hook.

"Of course I will," she said with a faint smile calculated to make the boy feel like she was bending the rules out of kindness. With those words, teacher and student parted ways, and their dignity and reputations survived another school day.

The novice educator picked up the pen that had supposedly brought her into the lab, and headed back to the front of the classroom with bolstered confidence and a dulcified demeanor.

"Sorry that took so long," Siphrah said to the class. Then the told the students a little white lie. "I had a little conversation with one of the faculty. It turns out students are allowed restroom breaks during class." 

Stacy Sutton practically jumped for joy.


End file.
